


foreverish and selfsubtracting

by sinequanon



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Teen Wolf (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-11-04 05:19:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10984182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinequanon/pseuds/sinequanon
Summary: Stiles, Lydia, and Danny lose their friends in Beacon Hills, get abducted by a carnivorous, space-bending library, and meet some Avengers.





	foreverish and selfsubtracting

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure what to say about this one, but hopefully, it's not too weird? It was written long before Dr. Strange came out (which I haven't seen, anyway), so any similarities between the two are coincidental. Actually, any similarities between this and any part of MCU canon are completely coincidental.
> 
> I will say, however, that I think of Varandus as an amalgamation of a library, a museum, and the TARDIS, only with magic instead of time travel.
> 
> Happy reading!

Stiles wasn't the least bit surprised anymore to wake up somewhere totally different from where he went to sleep; it was one of the most fascinating and infuriating things about the Collection. Yesterday, they had been in Turkey. The week before that been Brazil. Varandus went where its knowledge was needed, and the three of them reluctantly followed.

After everything that had happened in Beacon Hills while the pack was in high school, sometimes it still made Stiles indescribably angry that the humans were the ones who paid (and were maybe still paying) the price for the pack’s mistakes. Danny, Lydia, and Stiles had spent thousands of hours over the course of those few years doing research on every supernatural creature they could find, constantly preparing for the next possible threat, in order to keep the pack and the people around them safe.

They may not have been supernatural, but they were very good at what they did.

(It was why they were as prepared as they were for the job they did now, even if parts of them still railed against the unfairness of it all.)

The Collection was the largest magical gathering of texts in the world. Rumors suggested that it was actually the lost library of Alexandria, or Ivan the Terrible’s supposedly magnificent library, and, as unlikely as it was, both of those rumors were probably true; Stiles suspected that Varandus contained at least pieces of every magical tome ever written, including the ones lost to time.

Unfortunately, it also contained Stiles and his friends.

When a cabal of mages had threatened the pack, slowly turning the wolves against the humans, the three of them had sought out Morrell and cast a dangerous spell to break the cabal’s hold on the Beacon Hills pack. Two things happened as a result: the spell on the wolves broke, and Varandus--which had formerly been under the care of the cabal--gathered the humans up and took them to Italy.

That had been four years ago, and none of them had been home since.

(Not that it mattered, since the pack didn't remember them, anyway; one last gift from the cabal that was discovered too late to stop. The trio had tried to renew their friendships with the wolves, only to be largely ignored because, ironically, they needed to keep their “secret” safe from humans. Some days, Stiles really, _really_ hated werewolves.)

Evidently, Varandus couldn't exist without a caretaker or two, and it found Stiles, Lydia, and Danny suitable to the task, regardless of what they themselves may have wanted. The Collection didn't prevent them from interacting with the outside world (they called their parents every week, without fail) and protected them from threats (Stiles was ninety-eight percent sure the Collection had eaten a boy who had been stalking Lydia during their stay in Portugal), but sometimes it was difficult living in what was essentially a sentient library with a flexible moral code.

On this particular morning? They seemed to be in New York. Huh. Lydia and Danny were out--probably doing touristy things while they had the chance--so Stiles busied himself with random research while he waited for the person that Varandus had brought them here to see.

<> <>

Hours later, Stiles was thinking of texting Danny to bring him some lunch when the front door clanged, followed by the sound of heavy boots.

Stiles made no move to look up from his book or acknowledge his guest in any way, knowing that whoever it was would find him eventually. Not everyone took the Collection’s compulsion to visit well, and Stiles had found it was easier to give people time to look around and get their bearings before offering his services.

Most of the time, the first glimpse of Varandus that greeted visitors was an eclectic combination of curio shop and waiting room, complete with objects that twinkled and glowed _just_ _so_ to invite people to pick them up, plates of still-warm cookies waiting in convenient places, and comfortable chairs to curl up in. Once or twice, guests had never made it to the information desk at all, but had looked around, napped, and then gone on their ways.

The first visitor in a new city _always_ stayed, however, so all Stiles needed to do was wait.

Eventually, the sound of boots began moving in his direction, and Stiles put his reading aside to wait. A few moments later, a young, brown-haired, clean-cut man stood before him, a lost look on his face, and Stiles felt his heart go out to the guy. It was obvious why this one had felt the pull of the collection, with _that_ look in his eyes.

“Can I help you?” Stiles asked politely, pushing down the urge to reach out to the other man.

“I...l don't know why I'm here,” the other man said honestly, his face scrunching in confusion. “I was walking by, and I just...walked in.”

Stiles flashed the other man his most reassuring smile. “Most people don't know why they come here,” he said, “so that's normal. That's why I'm here, to help you figure it out. What's your name?”

The man blinked, and frowned at Stiles like he had expected the younger man to know him. “Call me Bucky.”

It took a long moment for his brain to click into gear, but Stiles took in the man’s appearance and his name and finally realized who was standing in front of him. Stiles mentally threw up his hands and did a little happy dance of excitement at meeting a superhero, but he absolutely _did_ _not_ let those emotions slide onto his face. If Bucky Barnes was here, if was because he needed help, not someone fawning all over him. Instead, he took a deep breath and smiled.

“I'm Stiles, and this,” he gestured around him, “is Varandus, or Vara, as I like to call her. We're here to help you answer your questions.”

“What questions?”

Stiles shrugged. “Whichever ones you have.”

Bucky stared at the boy uncomprehendingly.

“Here's the thing,” Stiles said, leveling the other man with a look as he guided him toward one of the private sitting areas, “Vara goes to people who need her. You're here, so by extension, you must need _something_. I don't know if this has to do with your stuff with the Avengers,” he got a glare at that, “or if it's a problem from your past, but we’ll help you. If you just need someplace to go, to get away from SHIELD for a while, that's fine, too. It's surprisingly peaceful considering how much stuff we've got packed into the place.”

Bucky was silent for so long that Stiles thought he might just leave. Finally, he said, “Do you have any tea?”

Stiles grinned. “Sure.”

And that was how Stiles ended up spending the afternoon drinking tea with Bucky Barnes, and then the evening eating leftover Chinese food while they talked about the craziness that was their lives.

<> <>

Neither Stiles nor Lydia bothered to look up when the door burst open and hurried footsteps entered the shop. Varandus was more than capable of protecting itself and anyone in the shop if that was what the person needed. Besides, it would take way too long to redo this experiment if the two of them stopped now, so whomever had just come in would just have to wait a moment while the two of them finished setting everything up.

“I need somewhere to hide,” the woman asked, though she seemed understandably bewildered by her surroundings, as if she hadn't meant to enter the shop at all.

(The woman's reaction was common enough, by Varandus had seen a definite increase in visitors since coming to New York, and they wondered what it was about the place that all of the area’s crime fighters seemed to need advice.)

Lydia hummed sympathetically, but took another few seconds to finish her work. “Just a minute, please.”

“Are you serious? I'm not even sure how I got here--”

“You're safe, don't worry,” Stiles soothed, glancing up briefly to look at the woman.

“They are armed,” May hissed, “and will have no qualms about killing civilians.”

The pair did look up then, but they both seemed thoughtful rather than alarmed. “We could use their bullets for testing, I'm sure,” Lydia told her friend, who grinned.

“And maybe we'll get to find out where Vara puts them,” Stiles added. “I'm still seventy percent sure she eats them.”

“What?” May asked, dumbfounded.

“I take it you work for SHIELD?” Lydia asked shortly as she finished her task and moved to help Stiles tidy up. “Please tell me we're not going to get pulled into another war with HYDRA; they're so much more trouble than they're worth, and I'm pretty such I still have some sort of alien goop in shoes from the last time.”

“Oh, you mean that purple stuff--”

“Excuse me?” May interrupted, confused in a way that previously, only Tony Stark had seemed to manage. “I don't--” she continued, only to be drowned out by the sudden sound of gunfire. Instinctively, she dropped to the ground, only to realize that Stiles and Lydia were still standing and were literally moving toward the sound.

What in the hell was going on?

Just as May was about to yell at them, or tackle them, or both, the gunfire was cut off with a groan and a strange sort of pop that made the agent’s ears hurt. Suddenly, there was more gunfire, screaming and yelling, and popping, and then silence. May was stunned.

Stiles and Lydia, however, were peering curiously out the window.

“See, Lydia, I told you that she eats them.”

“She doesn't eat them, Stiles,” the girl replied, rolling her eyes.

“There are literally no bodies and no blood. If she doesn't eat them, what does she _do_ with them?” Stiles questioned. He turned back to help May to her feet while Lydia got the agent something to drink.

“Fine, we’ll put it on the research list,” Lydia huffed, sitting down next to May, who was watching the pair with wide eyes.

Stiles grinned. “Thank you.”

<> <>

Danny was on his own the night that the Hulk burst into the shop, looking like he was going to smash something given the least bit of provocation, and he could honestly say it was one of the scariest moments of his life.

Danny wasn't like Stiles, who just carried on as if things were normal, no matter how unlikely the circumstances; or Lydia, who intimidated everyone into submission. Danny was a quick thinker, but he preferred to observe the action rather than participate in it.

A rampaging Hulk was way more action than he ever wanted to see.

Thankfully, whatever magic ran Vara also protected its minders, because no sooner had the Hulk started in Danny's direction than he seemed to hit an invisible wall. Hulk whirled, only to find the way he came also barred. He roared and pounded, but the invisible prison held.

Thus began the longest night of Danny's life since leaving Beacon Hills, watching the Hulk ram himself against the barriers for hours before he (and Danny) eventually fell into exhausted sleep.

Bruce woke up the next morning on a surprisingly warm floor to the smell of coffee and the sight of a young, dark-haired boy watching him from across the room.

He probably should have been worried or upset by the situation; instead, the scientist felt the calmest he had in years.

“Again?” he whined, as he pushed himself up to get a better look at his surroundings.

“Do you often wake up in strange places?” the boy questioned. “Not that it's a problem, but…” he trailed off, unsure, not knowing whether it was just the Hulk or the Hulk _and_ Dr. Banner who needed Vara’s assistance. Danny couldn't see why the Collection would single one of them out, but stranger things had happened.

“Who are you?”

“My name's Danny,” he said, a little bit cautiously. Somehow, dealing with the Hulk had been less stressful than dealing than the possibility of speaking with Dr. Banner, but he decided to follow Stiles's example and forge ahead anyway. “Welcome to Varandus.”

Bruce frowned, while Danny stepped forward to hand him clothes and coffee. “The Collection? What is it that you collect?” he asked curiously.

Danny couldn't stop the grin from overtaking his face. Vara might have abducted them, but the benefits almost always outweighed the costs. “Varandus is the world's largest repository of magical knowledge.”

Bruce had long ago learned to be cautious, and shot his coffee a dubious look. “Like the occult?”

Danny fixed him with a look that would have made Lydia proud. “I don't know if Vara is here for you, or the Hulk, or for both of you. We're here to help, so as long as we're needed,” he said simply.

“Thank you,” Bruce replied, “but I don't need anything right now.”

“That's what they all say,” Danny muttered under his breath.

<> <>

Lydia had to hand it to Natasha Romanov--the woman definitely knew how to make an entrance. In fact, the only reason Lydia didn't accidentally prick her finger on the spinning wheel they were examining was because Stiles swatted her hand away from the spindle before she could touch it.

She barely had time to shoot him a grateful smile--Vara probably wouldn't let any of them fall into an enchanted sleep, but there was no reason to risk it--before the former assassin was staring at them from across the counter, Clint Barton glowering at her side.

“Hello. Can we help you with something?” Lydia asked them, the picture of wide-eyed innocence.

Danny barely suppressed a snort while Stiles mumbled, “Like stress relief, maybe?”

Danny turned to stare at Stiles who just shrugged unrepentantly. They were beautiful, deadly people, it was true, but he lived in a magical library, so he figured nothing was out of the realm of possibility.

“Bucky Barnes is a good friend of ours. He's been spotted heading this way on multiple occasions, and Steve says he's grown much happier in the last month.” Natasha’s gaze wandered assessingly over each of them as she spoke. It was impressive, to be sure, but something they’d endured many times before. If she wanted to intimidate them, she was going to have to try much harder.

Stiles, who spent the majority of time with Bucky, shrugged again. “He's an interesting guy. We drink a lot of tea.”

Natasha turned to him, and her gaze sharpened. “What do you talk about?” she asked.

“I'm afraid that's none of your business.”

Natasha narrowed her eyes at Stiles, but Clint finished mentally cataloging the place and broke into the conversation before she could speak again.

“Bruce is a lot calmer recently,” the archer pointed out. “He says he's been here, too.” Clint zeroed in on Stiles and Lydia and grinned. “And May said you people were crazy as loons, so I have to admit I'm curious as to what you do here. It's like an antique shop and a furniture store had a brawl, and then nobody went home afterward.”

The trio hid their smiles; it was always interesting to hear other people's impressions of Varandus, and Vara’s reactions always to visitors always told them a little bit about the visitors themselves.

“We provide magical information and assistance to those who need it,” Lydia said simply.

“What does that mean?”

“Whatever it needs to mean,” Lydia added.

The two agents frowned. “How do you know who needs it?”

“We don't; Vara does.”

“So you could leave at any time?” Natasha sounded surprisingly disappointed by that, considering the way she had stormed in earlier. The three friends shared looks; all of these SHIELD people were amazingly high-maintenance.

“We’ve gone to sleep in one place and woken up in another plenty of times before and I'm quite sure it will happen again,” Lydia finished flatly. On either side of her, the boys sighed.

“Well, now that we've gotten that depressing tidbit out of the way,” Clint asked, cutting into the sudden silence, “who wants lunch?”

<> <>

Stiles had just finished feeding Abigail, the Venus fly trap that had magically appeared in one of their sitting rooms two days before, when Phil Coulson walked in the door wearing a bespoke suit and smiling mildly at the young man in front of him.

“I’m going to guess based on the shirt and jeans that you're Stiles?”

Stiles smiled easily at the man that each of Vara’s recent visitors had spoken highly of and gave him a nod in greeting.

“I’d offer to shake,” he explained apologetically, “but Miss Abby here is still new and pretty protective of us, and I'm sure you’re fond of your hand, so let's just skip that part.”

“Your shop is very difficult to find.”

Stiles shrugged and came around the corner to usher the man into one of the private rooms. “That's because not everyone is _supposed_ to find it,” he admitted.

If Coulson was surprised by that information, he gave no indication. Instead, the gaze he pinned on Stiles was fond enough, and similar enough to his dad's, that Stiles had to turn away to wipe his eyes, even without really knowing the agent at all.

“I feel like we need to be paying you and your friends psychiatry fees on behalf of the Avengers,” Phil remarked, thankfully ignoring the young man's emotional display while he pulled himself together.

“I don't know Bruce that well, but everybody else is cool, and Fitz and Simmons have promised to help Lydia and I with some of our experiments now that May has mostly stopped thinking that we’re deranged, so it's really not a problem.”

“May is very protective of the others,” Coulson conceded, “and it's not often that she encounters a man-eating library and its equally baffling inhabitants. That said, you’ve provided invaluable support to SHIELD and the Avengers over the last few weeks, and we want to acknowledge that.”

Stiles snorted. “My friends and I are many things, but normal isn't one of them.”

The older man nodded, and accepted the coffee that Stiles handed him with an appreciative sigh. Bruce couldn't say enough about this coffee, and Coulson could tell why after a single sip. If he didn't know any better, the agent would say that the drink itself was enchanted along with the Collection. The coffee wasn't worth it, though, if Clint and Tasha’s suspicions about the place were true.

“Are the three of you planning on staying in the area?”

For the first time, a less-than-pleasant look passed over the young man's face, but it was more resigned than anything. “That's entirely up to Vara. We go wherever it takes us. We might be here for two weeks, or we might be here for two years, there's really no way to know.”

Coulson set his drink down at looked more carefully at the young man before him. Natasha had said that all three of the caretakers seemed physically well, but Phil knew from speaking to their parents that the trio had essentially been abducted. If they wanted out, Phil would help them, even if he had to leave other people in their places to do so.

“Are you trapped? Do you need help?” he asked frankly. And after a moment, “Is there anyone I can contact for you?”

Stiles hesitated. He didn't know if SHIELD knew about the supernatural, and he surely didn't want to be the one to bring it up to them if they didn't. Still, everyone had said that Coulson could be trusted, and Lydia and Danny were as curious as Stiles about home, so he went for honesty.

“If you could keep an eye on our hometown,” he began, “we would appreciate it. As for getting out, the three of us are still trying to figure out where all of the boundaries are so we can live our own lives. This isn't a _bad_ place; there's a lot to love about it, actually; but it's attached to some bad memories, so we all have kind of mixed feelings about it.”

“I have no doubt that once you meet Stark, he’ll put people on it right away, if he hasn't already done so.”

Stiles frowned in confusion. “Why would Tony Stark be helping us? He’s never even been here.”

“No,” Coulson agreed,” but Clint has been very vocal about his visits, so it's only a matter of time before Stark pokes his nose into your business.”

“Really?”

The agent nodded, the barest hint of a smile on his face. “I have a feeling you’ll be seeing Steve fairly soon as well; I think he wants to thank you for helping Bucky. In fact, I think it's pretty safe to say that you will be seeing much more of all of us in the future.”

<> <>

Eight days later, Varandus and her caretakers jumped from New York to Fiji.

Within days of The Collection's disappearance, pandemonium broke out among New York’s superhero population as they and SHIELD raced to figure out where Varandus had gone, and how much trouble they had to cause to bring it back.

Thirty-eight days, a radioactive moth, and a definitely-not-staged fight between Captain America and the Winter Soldier later, Varandus jumped back.

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from the poem "how many moments must(amazing each)" by e.e. cummings.
> 
> For those of you who are waiting for the next part in my Clint/Stiles series, it's about 20% done, but I'm trying to finish up a couple of other things, first, so I hope you can be patient with me for a little longer.
> 
> Next week: the final two chapters in my TW/SPN crossover and an odd little Lydia/Peter/Stiles fic.
> 
> See you then, and thanks for reading!


End file.
